


we will become silhouettes

by staticbees



Series: paint the edges (of the road we're on) [1]
Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Gen, aka the fic where they escape but also not really, and finally did it in-game, anyway the summary is basically in the tags bc i suck at summaries, are you proud of me, for this fic, i rewatched the escape pod ending like ten times, its like portal 2 except not. thats it thats the fic //, thats not super important to the plot just clarifying, the narrator is an ai, wow my chapter titles are So Creative amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:52:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: “I- Stanley, where are you?” the Narrator called, sounding distant and muted, as if he was somewhere far away. Stanley looked around, trying to pinpoint where exactly his voice was coming from. “You need to come back to the story, Stanley!”He shook his head and began to run, stumbling slightly as he headed down the hallway, back towards his office. He spared a quick glance at the meeting room to see if anyone had returned, and continued onwards, stopping short in front of room #427.He was about to step inside when he noticed something strange. The door next to it, #428, was swung open, revealing a pitch black interior. Stanley shivered at the cool breeze drifting through, and stepped through the doorway, eyes adjusting to the darkness.





	1. Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Spring and summer after](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339863) by [Penstrokes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes/pseuds/Penstrokes). 



“Coming to a staircase, Stanley walked upstairs to his boss's office.” 

 

Stanley trudged up the stairs, trying to ignore the creeping sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, a heavy, knotted rope that curled through his bones and weighed him down like lead. He’d been following the Narrator’s instructions to the letter for hours now, but he could feel his heart sinking as he pressed forward, and he felt with growing apprehension that something quite unpleasant was awaiting him at the end of his journey. The Narrator had brushed off his concerns, dismissing them as ‘misdirected paranoia,’ but Stanley wasn’t so sure. The Narrator had hurt him before, in earlier resets. Who’s to say he wouldn’t again? 

 

He reached the top of the staircase, and the doors to his boss’s office swung open as he approached. Stanley jumped back, startled. He stared through the doorway for a moment, at the rich decor and paneled walls, before backing away, shaking his head. The room unsettled him, and he didn’t like to stay in it longer than necessary. 

 

Earlier, after Stanley first left his office, the Narrator had mentioned that the office Stanley had spawned in might not be the correct one. Even though it clearly, obviously was, Stanley suddenly wondered if the Narrator had made other mistakes in the story this time around. 

 

His eyes widened, mind whirling with possibilities. What if this reset, his coworkers, his boss, actually did come back? He knew that was implausible, maybe even impossible, but employees had been let go for less than entering the boss’s office without permission. If the orders had returned, and he had been too busy wandering around the office building to notice, he could be fired, or worse! 

 

He knew exactly what awaited him in the mind control facility, but he couldn’t shake a niggling sense that something was different this reset, and even if it was unfounded, he’d rather stay far away from whatever it was than head towards the danger, like the Narrator seemed to want him to. 

 

“Oh, come on, Stanley, it won’t bite,” the Narrator pressed, irritation seeping into his words. Stanley stood still for a moment more, before the Narrator’s frustrated muttering became too much to bear. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to step through the doorway. 

 

He stood there a moment, taking in his surroundings, before hastily backing out before the doors closed behind him. They slammed shut in front of his face with a bang, and he jumped back, startled. 

 

The Narrator’s voice grew softer, before fading away completely, and Stanley’s eyes widened. He had never strayed this far from the script before. If the Narrator didn’t know what Stanley had done… 

 

But he had to. There would be no reason for the Narrator to stay in his boss’ office. It was his story, after all, he could go wherever he wanted!  

 

‘Narrator?’ he signed. ‘I’m out here, I’m not in there anymore…’ 

 

There was no response, and he waited with baited breath, listening for any acknowledgement that the Narrator had seen him. After a few moments, though, the office was still silent, the only sound a low hum from the fluorescent lights above him. 

 

Stanley froze, the reality of his situation sinking in. There was no one to help him out, no one to show him the way, no one to tell him what to do. He was alone again. 

 

He began to retrace his steps, heading down the stairs towards his office. The doors he had walked through earlier were open again, which only served to increase his unease. 

 

As Stanley headed down the stairs, there was a sharp burst of static, and he fell to his knees, hands over his ears. After a few seconds, the noise stopped, and Stanley raised his head and cautiously stood up, careful to keep his hand on the railing. 

 

“I- Stanley, where are you?” the Narrator called, sounding distant and muted, as if he was somewhere far away. Stanley looked around, trying to pinpoint where exactly his voice was coming from. “You need to come back to the story, Stanley!” 

 

He shook his head and began to run, stumbling slightly as he headed down the hallway, back towards his office. He spared a quick glance at the meeting room to see if anyone had returned, and continued onwards, stopping short in front of room #427. 

 

He was about to step inside when he noticed something strange. The door next to it, #428, was swung open, revealing a pitch black interior. Stanley shivered at the cool breeze drifting through, and stepped through the doorway, eyes adjusting to the darkness. 

 

“Ah, there you-” The Narrator stopped short, sounding puzzled. “What are you- what is this place?”

 

Stanley shrugged, just as confused as the Narrator. ‘Shouldn’t you know your own office?’ he signed, rolling his eyes. 

 

The Narrator sighed. “Yes. But this room was never meant to open, it shouldn’t even be possible!” he spluttered, disbelieving.

 

‘Well, it does, and I’m going inside.’

 

“Alright. Just… be careful.” 

 

Stanley nodded and continued forward, hand outstretched in case he bumped into something in the darkness. After a bit, he spotted a light in the distance, and headed towards it. It illuminated a hallway, stained, grimy and covered with dust, piled up from years of disuse. 

 

A faded sign on the wall informed him that he was now leaving, and Stanley’s eyes widened in disbelief.  _ They would be free. Only a few floors to go, and they would be free.  _

 

He headed over towards the elevator, gleaming silver. As he drew closer, he realized there was no visible way to call it to his floor, and the doors were shut tight. He sighed, and began to head forward, up the stairs. 

 

“Stanley? What is it? What did you find?” the Narrator demanded. 

 

‘An escape pod. We can use it to get out of here!’ he signed, grinning. 

 

He began to walk faster, as if the stairs would disappear if he slowed down, or looked away, eyes fixed on the floor above him. 

 

The Narrator made a noise of surprise. “What- really? I... I never knew there was a way to actually escape for good!” 

 

He sounded genuinely confused, and Stanley wondered how the escape pod had made it’s way into the story, if even the Narrator didn’t know about it.

 

The stairs were dark and cold, and Stanley shivered, uneasily eyeing the harsh red emergency lighting that was the only source of light. It felt like time stopped in the spaces between the floors, his footsteps clanging loudly on the grated metal catwalks. The Narrator's voice echoed slightly as he spoke.

 

To think,” the Narrator sighed, “All these choices, and endings, and running away from everything, and we could’ve been working together, towards freedom, this entire time!”

 

Stanley came to a stop in front of floor 760. In front of him, the word ‘ESCAPE’ was painted on the wall in blocked red lettering, and Stanley stepped forward, breathless.  _ This is it,  _ he thought to himself.  _ Freedom is just around the corner.  _

 

He walked through the door at the end of the hall and into pitch black darkness, until he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. A thought struck him, as he headed blindly forward. What if this was freedom? What if this was as far as he’d make it before the game reset? He shuddered at the thought of this absolute emptiness continuing on forever. 

 

“Stanley. The sign back there noted that both you and I need to be present for this to work. I think I figured out why.” Stanley stopped in his tracks at the Narrator’s solemn tone, glancing upwards. “You need permission from me to use the escape pod. That’s what it needs me for. Nothing more, nothing less. I can’t come with you, Stanley. You’ll be alone. And you might never be able to come back.” 

 

He took a deep breath. Of course it was too good to be true. He’d be finally free, but at what cost?

 

“This doesn’t change anything, Stanley. I’ll be fine here. I was before you came, I can be again. Keep heading forward. I don’t mind.”  

 

He nodded and kept walking, eyes widening at the sight of a light in the distance. He headed towards it, apprehension building as he grew closer. 

 

What if it wasn't an escape pod after all? What if it was a trap? What if it was just another cruel joke, tricking him into thinking he'd be free, and then snatching it away with the press of a button?

 

After what felt like forever, he finally reached the source of light. He stood in front of the escape pod for a moment, brushing his fingers lightly over the cold metal to make sure it was real. There was no going back. Once he went forward, he could never go back. Stanley took a deep breath, and stepped inside. 

 

The pod was small, just enough room for Stanley to stand, without being too claustrophobic. It was lit by a harsh red light that made it seem menacing and dangerous somehow, and Stanley was uncomfortably reminded of the Explosion Ending, timer ticking down seconds to his death. He tensed up, wary of what was to come. 

 

The door slid shut, and he winced at the soft hiss, a blatant reminder that this was something foreign, something entirely different from the comforting familiarity of the office. He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the rails that lined the sides of the pod as tightly as he could.

 

“Stanley?” the Narrator began. “Whatever happens… remember me. Alright?”

 

Stanley took a deep breath, and nodded silently.

 

The Narrator activated the escape pod. 

 

There was a burst of static, and everything went black.


	2. Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He almost missed the office, sometimes, unused to the wide, open spaces of the outside, the endless sky that felt like it could go on forever. He hadn’t seen the real sun in years, hadn’t talked to other humans in even longer. It was overwhelming, to suddenly be outside, abruptly thrust into freedom with no instructions or guidelines. He had been in the Parable, in the office, for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to be on his own, with no one telling him where to go, what to do, or how to do it."

The first thing Stanley noticed was the silence. It was so unbearably quiet, and he pressed his hands to his ears to block out the heavy sense of nothingness around him. 

 

The door slid open, and Stanley squinted against the brilliant light streaming through, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. 

 

He stepped out of the escape pod, noticing that it was wedged slightly in the ground, presumably from the impact. 

 

The sun shone directly overhead, and he shaded his eyes, flinching at the brightness of it all. Stanley looked around, hoping to find some clue as to where he’d ended up. 

 

He stood in a wheat field, the sky a perfect sapphire blue, pale, wispy clouds drifting above him. He could hear birds chirping from somewhere nearby, the warbling trills of songbirds drifting through the air on a soft, cool breeze. 

 

Unlike the Freedom Ending, one of the only signs of civilization Stanley could see was a small shed with a metal door, broken and falling apart. He grinned, eyes shining at the prospect of the new path in front of him. 

 

He took a deep breath, and began to walk.

 

. . .

 

Stanley woke up in a cold sweat, eyes wide, the dream already fading from his mind. He clutched the sheets with a tight grip, and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

 

Soft sunlight filtered in through the window, and birds chirped faintly outside. He rolled over to face the sun, letting the warmth wash over him. He’d been having nightmares more than usual, lately, ever since he’d gone back to the field he’d ended up in, after escaping the Parable. 

 

He wasn’t sure why he’d gone back; seeking closure, maybe. It didn’t provide much. In the end, he’d just sat there, staring at the stalks of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, the old shack with the caved in roof and rotting wooden boards, and the escape pod, scratched and worn, its bright red color faded with age. 

 

He’d sat there until his eyes began to blur with tears, and his shoulders hunched and he’d looked away, feeling like he couldn’t stay in that field any longer. The journey back to town had been long and arduous, but it had brought a sense of relief with it, too. It was nice, being able to get up and leave once he grew tired of being somewhere. He certainly hadn’t had that luxury in the office.

 

During the Parable, he had thought he was on his own, but at least he’d had the Narrator then. Now, though, he was completely, utterly alone. There were other people, of course, but he lived by himself, and hadn’t grown close with any of his coworkers, or anyone else he saw in his day-to-day life. For the longest time, he’d turn to his side, or begin to sign something, before realizing that no one was there. 

 

He almost missed the office, sometimes, unused to the wide, open spaces of the outside, the endless sky that felt like it could go on forever. He hadn’t seen the real sun in years, hadn’t talked to other humans in even longer. It was overwhelming, to suddenly be outside, abruptly thrust into freedom with no instructions or guidelines. He had been in the Parable, in the office, for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to be on his own, with no one telling him where to go, what to do, or how to do it.

 

At first, he kept expecting to turn around and see an unexpected door, or a hallway that hadn’t been there before, kept expecting it all to reset. He grew more skittish than he had been during the Parable, wary of saying the wrong thing, or not understanding something that seemed to be common knowledge. 

 

Occasionally, he’d mention something offhand, about the office or the Parable or the Narrator, and only notice when the other person gave him a strange look, making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

 

His memories from before the Parable were blurry at best, and most were simply nonexistent. He wasn’t even sure he ever actually had a wife, or if it was simply a cruel joke the Narrator had played on him, to get him to think someone had actually cared about his disappearance all those years ago. 

 

No one he'd met in town had remembered anything about more than 600 office workers disappearing, something which would've surely generated some press, and when he searched himself online, nothing came up but a famous actor with his name who was involved in some big scandal a year ago. He didn't even remember his last name, so it made sense that he wouldn't be able to find anything, but it still made him uneasy, as if the whole Parable had simply been a product of his own restless mind.

 

It was strange, how when he was alone, he often felt unbearably lonely, but when he was with other people, other humans, all he wanted was to get away. He had been alone for so long that going out into a crowd felt overwhelming, the sheer noise of everyone setting him on edge. 

 

For a while, he talked to himself to fill the silence when he was alone, commenting on what he was doing or rambling on about how pretty it was outside. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason for it, any purpose, just talking to fill the empty space with words. He didn’t do it when he was around other people, of course. The rest of society provided more than enough noise. 

 

He finally got a stable job, after several months of searching, and rented a small apartment in the city, not very large but nice enough, cozy and cheap. He painted the walls an eggshell white, and sunk his feet into the soft shag carpets that had come with the apartment. 

 

Most people disliked them, but Stanley was almost comforted by the bumpy unevenness the carpeting provided. Cold, smooth floors reminded him all too much of the office and the Parable, and he avoided them as much as he could. 

 

Stanley tried to not think about before, to focus on the present. That was what his therapist had recommended, at least. He hadn’t told her all the details of the Parable- she’d think he was insane, or worse- but she knew bits and pieces, and respected the fact that he didn’t want to tell her everything. It helped, having someone to talk to. 

 

He hadn’t told her he was going back to the field that day, though. She didn’t need to know. Besides, she barely knew the significance of the place anyway. 

 

If he had said anything, she’d have probably pressed him for answers, and he wouldn’t have been willing to give any, so he left it alone, and kept quiet. It’s not like he was the first person to lie to his therapist when she asked him if he’d had any nightmares recently, anyway.

 

After a few minutes of just lying there, Stanley rolled out of bed and got dressed, grateful that it was finally the weekend. It was nice, having a job again, but it got tiring after awhile, and he could only focus so much on work before he needed a break. 

 

He headed into the kitchen and turned on the radio, humming along to the song under his breath as he made breakfast.

 

_ “And I'm looking through the glass, where the light bends at the cracks, and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, pretending the echoes belong to someone. Someone I used to know.” _

 

He wasn’t as happy as he’d thought he’d be, after he got out.  He'd always have moments of doubt, or fear, or anger. The Parable was still fresh in his mind, even after all these years. Maybe it’d stick with him the rest of his life. 

 

But he would do his best to make a new start. To begin again. 

 

That was all that counted, in the end. 


End file.
